


Love's Drug

by tiethreadGrotesquecinema



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anger, Cocaine, Drinking, Drugs, Fighting, Frustration, Homestuck - Freeform, M/M, MalexMale, Orange, Red - Freeform, Regret, Stridercest - Freeform, Strife - Freeform, anger issues, katanas, violance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:05:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiethreadGrotesquecinema/pseuds/tiethreadGrotesquecinema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The main character, being Dave Strider, has to decide amongst breaking the trust of his fellow friends, ruining his reputation as the number one sellar for A-class drugs, or breaking the heart of his sibling, Dirk. He's going to cross lines, break promises as well as bones, and fight his way to shrug off the inevitable feelings his brother has for him. Is he going to crumble, give up, and succumb, or is he going to refuse, keep pretending everything is okay, and keep a stiff upper lip with his one and only family member?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Drug

A squeal of laughter echoes through a dark area, eventually fading into silence under the pulsing of music that blared rhythmically throughout the club. The up beat music makes the walls vibrate and bounce, almost in time with the people curving and swinging their hips on the multi-colored mess called a dance floor. Laser lights and strobes blink and swing from all corners of the dark building, creating the perfect place for a seizure, or a victory party for a crew of drug dealers who just scored big on a shipment. 

Currently, a young male of twenty-one, otherwise known as you, Dave Strider, sits somewhere in the back of the club. It was a little segregated area composed of three booths, five strippers, and booze for anyone willing to lose what sanity they had left. There are a total of ten men at this small gathering, all of them shipped and sold drugs, but only two out of the ten ran the business of the drug handling. Your names are Dave and Dirk Strider, the spunky albino brothers that had a thirst for action. Though, Dirk had sharper facial features then you and didn’t have as heavy a Texan accent as you did, you both had pale skin and oddly colored eyes. Dirk had vibrant orange hues, a slender figure, and had a light shade of blonde hair; you, on the other hand, had a more vibrant eye color of red, broad shoulders, and a smooth frame of face with blinding platinum locks. You two like to keep secret that the decision of when and where the drugs go are up to you. So, even your brethren beside you don’t know that you two call the shots. This was merely because they might change a different shade of friendly if they found out you were the main reason why they stayed up late at night calculating the weight of the meth (or glass, as Dirk called it) they cooked. They didn’t get an hourly pay for their work, just an overall payment that they should be more then satisfied with. Even with that in mind, you wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to ‘pursue‘ you into changing a few things. There was an overall boss that you and Dirk had to follow though, a man that went by the name of Scratch for the irony that he’d been through a lot of shit and ended up unscathed, but he was flexible with his orders.

Right now, you’re drinking, and as one of the fine female strippers walk by, she catches your observant eye. “Ay, come here babe,” you start, “how ‘bout yah show me a good time?” You ask whilst tipping back a small shot of vodka down your throat, your free hand reaching out to grip one of her wrists before she’s able to walk off; her eyes, a vibrant green, look at you, her hair a raven black that fell down her back smoothly, clothing merely consisting of a thong and laced bra that fit one size too small. She didn’t try to pull away from the iron grip, just smirked at the pale hand gripping her and slowly turned her body to instead settle comfortably on your lap.  
You smile up at her for cooperating and move your hands to settle on her slender hips, her fingers immediately running through your platinum locks. A pair of black Aviators covered your red hues, protecting them from the flickering lights overhead that irritated your sensitive eyes. You also you just love the irony of wearing shades in a building when they weren’t necessarily needed, and that meant the same for Dirk, your sibling that sat to your right. He was chuckling and clutching a blue bottle of alcohol that could knock out a lumberjack with one whiff.  
“Oh-ho! I see you’re having some fun, bro. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so entertained before.” He teases, his face smirking and adorning a pair of shades as well, but his were oblique and stuck out like something from one of those shitty Chinese cartoons he’s always watching. What was the name for them again? Anime? You don’t really remember, and honestly, you can’t find a care in the word to figure the name out at the moment. There’s a pretty girl on your lap, you’re hammered as fuck, and for once you’re enjoying yourself. What else could you possibly want? 

You merely grunt at Dirk’s smart comment, glancing at him from the corner of your Aviators and sneering slightly as a small sign for him to shut his trap while you enjoy what’s in your hands. That smug smirk doesn’t leave his thin lips though, which would ruffle your non-existent feathers to the point where you’d smack him across the back of his head, but the girl starts moving on your lap, rolling her hips in the process of giving you a lap dance. She grabs your attention and your crimson hues are on her again, a small smirk somehow finding its way to curl your lips upward. Her movements send your already tipsy head into an almost heavenly numbness, making you hum contently as her moves become one with the music and you take care to ogle her every move. 

“Holy hell you’re hot.” The words come out in a mumble barely audible over the music and bouncing conversation of the club. The accent you have is heavier then usual from the consumption of alcohol and no food, making the words come out twisted and slurred like you were from California rather then Texas. She smiles down at you, and you swear you hear her laughing. It was a fluttering giggle that made your blood pumper race almost as quick as the wings of a hummingbird on steroids. The only thing that ruined her laugh was the all too familiar snicker that comes to your ears from your side. You don’t even have to glance over to know it’s from Dirk. Goddamn it, can’t he just find a nice girl and get off your back for once? They were here to party and have a good time with the ladies, not cause some sibling bull shit and end up roughhousing next to a bar with a bunch of witnesses. They’ve already gotten caught more then once for fighting in a club, and each time they fought, it almost always ended up with the brothers getting kicked out and banned from the club. 

“Shut up yah li’l shit, before I shove my fist down your throat…” You growl out between gritting teeth, your platinum brow twitching slightly in annoyance as your attention wavers from the girl, to your brother, then back. You were slowly losing your ‘Happy Feeling’, and that would not settle well with you since this is the only time you and the crew would have a break from shipping drugs overseas for a couple months or so. The only reason you guys were allowed a gracing period now was because you scored big time on a shipment; sold a quarter-ton of meth for about twice it’s original worth because you delivered it early, and by ‘you’ delivering it early, you mean Dirk and two members of the crew. Basically, you had promised him a favor a week ago for packing the ‘glass’ in his Ferrari and driving it over to the buyers place overnight, though he hasn’t specified what he wanted in return, you know you’re going to regret agreeing to the terms of the exchange.

“Oh come on now man, what do you think you’re going to do? You willing to toss li’l ‘Miss Pretty’ off to the side and pertain to giving me a nice ass kicking? Ooh, I’m petrified. I’m just shivering in the very pants I’m sitting in. By the grace of god, please, don’t hurt me, bro.“ He taunted, putting both his hands up in defense as he slightly coward, shivering as if he felt a cold breeze when in reality he was trying to be a little shit. You can’t even explain how much his sarcasm rubs you the wrong way, causing the hairs on your neck to prickle up as you, again, look at Dirk from the corner of your Aviators, red hues narrowed sternly at him as almost all interest in the girl on your lap leaves your system. 

“… Hot damn you’re such a child, dude. Do you not get enough attention from the li’l fruit cups you bring home at night that you have to patronize me?” Usually Dave would consider himself hitting below the belt bringing up his brother’s gender interests, but he was too ticked off to really realize the words spilling from his mouth. He just wanted Dirk off his damn back; it was like he was a leech sucking the fun from Dave slowly, yet at a measurable pace. “Seriously, this is me tellin’ you to get lost man, go find some slut to entertain yourself with, or male stripper for all I care, and get off my dick. An’ don’t even start with me on how I never pay attention to yah, cause I sure as hell always do. I bailed you out of jail only the god I don’t believe knows how many times. Sometimes-,” the girl on your lap shifts, making you pause to let out a small grunt in reply before continuing, “-I think yah try to tick me off. Want me to literally list out the amount of shit stains you’ve left on this world, bro?” You ramble, tone low so only your sibling can hear it and not the eight men around you that sat in the opposing two booths, ladies handing out drinks to them whilst dancing on a couple of the guys’ laps. 

You impatiently wait for a reply, pale hands on the woman’s hips tensing up, and you don’t even notice that she’s stiff as well. Dirk merely stares at you, almost as if he’s contemplating something as you watch him cross his ankle over his opposite knee nonchalantly, his black and orange suit crinkling at the movement. 

“Well, actually, I’d love it if you told me the list of my failures in either alphabetical order or in the order pertaining to the time that they occurred, thank you very much.” He drawled out slowly, leaning his head back on the leathered seat, his blonde spikey hair defying gravity even at his current angle as he smugly grinned. His shit eating grin makes you growl like an animal, lips curled into a snarl towards him menacingly as if daring him to continue his smart remarks.

“Yah smart mouthed fucker, say one more thin’, say one more fuckin’ thin’ an’ I’ll cut your accursed tongue from the very bile place called a mouth on yah. Don’t think I will? Try me.” You don’t notice it, but the girl on your lap has gone pale, green eyes glancing between you and your brother as a cold sweat breaks out on her brow. It sure as hell isn’t from the stuffy room, nor was it perspiration from moving on your lap. She was nervous, and may you drop dead here and now if that wasn’t an enormous turn off. Before you know it, she’s slowly fidgeting on your lap and then using your chest as leverage so she can fumble up onto her own feet and off of you.

“I-I have to go, I think my boss wants me-,” she stammers out in a soft, meek voice, obviously trying hard not to choke on apparently air. You quickly flicker your eyes from you’re rotten sibling to her, narrowing them up at her afterward. You can’t help it; her fear makes your lips rip into a snarl. She tenses up at your expression and you can almost smell the fear coming from where she stands in front of you. Then again, it could just be the fragrance of cigarettes and stale perfume around you that you smell. Nonetheless, the pale look and wordless agape mouth she has directed your way is flat out irritating.

You don’t know what it is, but anytime someone shows even a smidge of weakness, you take it as an offense and grow agitated that they aren’t as emotionally stable (or unstable, as most people point out) as you. You weren’t always like this, it’s just once you start a job that makes it hard to pity someone or try to see through their perspective so that you can successfully get them doped up on what you’re selling them, trying to understand someone’s point of view gets lost from your sociality. Another reason why her shocked expression annoys you is because, well, she’s a slut, she should be use to this kind of talk, right? She should know to ignore the words you’re spitting because in the end she’d get a good tip and she’d probably never see you again. She could be new though, and this could be her first night dancing so she doesn’t have the hang of ignoring what her customers are discussing—this rational explanation isn’t running through your head though. No, you’re actually thinking that she’s being a weak little bitch who needs someone to hold her hand and read her a bedtime story while she falls asleep to the dream of false hopes and candy land. The world is harsh, and if she can’t see that picture, then she’s useless; therefor, you’re wasting your time on someone that doesn’t deserve it. 

You can hear the seat creak in annoyance next to you, letting you know Dirk was shifting in his seat from his relaxed position, to a more tensed, sit up position. You can’t see it, but his orange burst colored hues was watching the girl from beneath his shades critically. You don’t know if he sat up to make sure you wouldn’t lunge at the girl and beat her senseless, or if it was because he needed a better view to /watch/ you lose your shit on this helpless girl. A small part of you does in fact want to hurt her, if not for her ignorance, then for a window to vent your frustrations towards your brother out on.

“… What’d yah say, toots?” You start, voice low with a sharp edge at the end. With your teeth clenching tightly, Dirk raises his blonde brows, now looking at you from the corner of his shades as he fidgets again. Though curious as to what he would do with this current predicament, you ignore him all together, your now empty hands situating themselves onto the edge of the seat where you sat before continuing. “Yah know, I could’ve sworn yah jus’ said yah had to leave… huh, my ears must be playin’ tricks on me since, hey, I don’t exactly remember tellin’ yah you were /allowed/ to leave.” On the emphasized word, you lean forward, threatening to stand up and get aggressively in her face if needed. 

She listened intensely to your words, the air between you two shifting to a heavy essence as the green-eyed girl bites her plump lower lip. Her fear creates a weird reaction in your system. It can only be described as amusement. You find yourself watching the way she shifts foot-to-foot, one of her arms moving to grip her opposite arm by the crook of her elbow nervously. Her abnormally vibrant hues glance off to the side, and you could have sworn she nodded, but to who? Before you can even turn in the direction she was looking in, she puts her gaze upon you again, still nervous and timid as ever. The only thing that could complete this pathetic scene is if she’d apologize and ask for forgiveness, and as if that thought was spoken aloud, she does.

“I-I’m sorry, sir…please, forgive me for my rudeness.” A quick narrowing of your eyes can all too plainly express your confusion as to why she apologized, especially so quickly. Did you terrify her that bad? You somewhat look at Dirk to get a confirmation that you weren’t hearing/seeing things. He was just looking at the girl in front of you in an almost baffled manner (which would consist of a small arch of his brows and slightly parted lips considering you two were masters of the poker face). Slowly, you look to the girl again and hum contently. Your tight muscles seem to relax a bit with the realization that you were in fact not hallucinating from the alcohol; you felt reassured that she’s seen her mistake and that she wants to be forgiven. How priceless.

You let a small smirk curl the corner of your lips upward into a lazy half smirk, one of your hands reaching up from the couch you were formerly death gripping. “Good girl… now, yah mind comin’ back on my lap or -?” You purr out, but can’t even complete your sentence when a bulky, broad shouldered Bouncer walks over. He steps between you and the girl abruptly, being dressed in a black tux and white tie to somehow fit in with the crowd when he looked more like some CIA agent then a party-goer. You are taken aback a little, that smirk on your face being wiped clean to be replaced by a disgusted arch of your lip and dark glower of your eyes over the brim of your Aviators. “Who the hell are yah?” You ask, muscles returning to their rigid form as your gut twists in irritation. So this is who the girl was looking at earlier; she was signaling for backup. How the hell did Dirk not notice this? And, how did the Bouncer get pass the rest of your crew unrecognized?

Quickly, your eyes glance around beneath the safety of your shades, skimming the group of drunk and slurring drug dealers that looked to be unaware of anything other then the glasses of alcohol on the table and the pretty girls on their lap. You guess you shouldn’t be surprised they weren’t paying attention. A sigh comes from your nose, looking back at the bouncer towering over you. 

“You have to leave, sir. You and everyone here, or do I have to force your ass outta here?” His tone was deep, matching his thick frame of face and bulky features. He looked like a guy who would undoubtedly kick Dave’s lesser broad ass… if it weren’t for the fact that Dave actually knew how to carry his own in a fight with his bare hands. It didn’t matter if they were taller, wider, or wiser; you knew how to twist and wrap the fight to be on your behalf, and you made a show to make that apparent to everyone. Carefully, you move to stand up before the Bouncer, tilting your head side to side to pop your neck before casually stuffing your pale hands into the pockets of your slacks. You put up a plain façade for the first time tonight, eyes half lidded as the before air of aggravation vanishes like a ghost in the wind. 

“… So, you’re proposin’ that I leave immediately, right?” You ask, nodding a little at your slight rhetorical question. The male stares at you for a few seconds, probably wondering why you were eerily calm all of a sudden. He still answered, but seemed a little cautious compared to before.

“Yes ‘sir, that’s exactly what I said. I don’t want to do this but, if necessary, I will use force.“ the bouncer folds his hands promptly in front of himself, puffing his chest out a bit to seem bigger you guess, even if that wasn’t necessary to point out he was as huge as King-Kong. 

“Ah, is that so.” A snort escapes your lips. “Well, I honestly don’t feel like leavin’ right now, /sir/. N’ if yah have a problem with that, I suggest yah take it up with my bro.” You jut a thumb over your shoulder at your sibling, who was now leaning back in his seat casually, ankle still crossed over his opposite knee with a look of what could be related to boredom. The male ‘s eyes dart from you, to Dirk, then they’re on you again. He shifts then, putting a beefy hand on your shoulder, face stern, but motions slightly hesitant.

“Do not take my warnings so lightly-“ The guy looks like he wants to continue talking to you, to explain what he was going to do if you didn’t leave, but he’s cut off by a gust of wind whipping past him. A small, surprised gasp comes from the troublesome green-eyed girl that’s still standing behind the protective club guard, and right under the guard’s neck is a blade glinting deviously under the flashing lights of the club. You smirk, following the hilt of the blade up to a familiar pale hand, then a clothed arm trailing up to Dirk who had his Katana tucked under the males neck. You don’t move to stop him, just smirk in amusement and watch as your sibling glares aggressively at the guy he held threateningly. 

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t let you threaten my brother without consequence, sir. Now, take your fuckin’ hand off of him before I shove it somewhere it really shouldn’t be, got it?” He growls, shifting the blade under the other’s neck to show he wasn’t afraid to hurt him if provoked. The bouncer’s eyes went wide, his mouth gaping a bit as he quickly took his hand off you, then put both his hands up as if to say he wasn’t holding a weapon, though, you could see a small glint coming from the side of his belt under his coat. You nonchalantly reach forward to grab the gun and slip it from his belt, tucking it into the back of your pants afterward so he couldn’t harm you, or your brother, when you allowed the guy’s release.

Vaguely, you wonder where the hell your brother pulled his sword from, but you guess you’ll ask him about that later. Right now, you had to deal with some business. And by business, you mean stripping this bouncer of all his dignity.

“Mm. So what was this ‘bout me n’ my bro here havin’ to leave?” You ask in a matter of fact way, raising a platinum brow as your hands move to fold behind your back promptly. Your keen eyes pick up the muscle twitching in the opposing male’s jaw. Oh yes, you were digging under his skin, like some degrading parasite he couldn’t flick off.

“…My former statement still stands. “ He drawls out slowly, eyes narrowing at you. “You piece of shit, you’re making a big mistake. I’ll make sure /no one/ let’s your pale ass into any club within’ a fifty mile radius you-!” The pissed off brute shuts up when Dirk’s blade shifts under his neck again. This time, the Katana cuts through his skin, making him hiss in complaint. “Damn it, get out!” He growls, trying to struggle in your siblings grip, which is futile since Dirk was much stronger then he appeared. The spikey haired blonde smirks down at his victim, then his orange hues flicker to you. He nods over to the side, is if trying to point something out. It only takes you a moment to realize he was motioning towards the back exit of the building. 

Oh, so he could also tell it was time to leave. You let out a small sigh through slightly parted lips, the smirk on your face faltering a bit before it fell completely. 

“Yea, yea, dipshit, we’re leavin’. How ‘bout yah try keepin’ your panties from twistin’ up yer tight ass.” You grumble, pale hands shifting from behind to instead slide into slack pockets to fish out your pack of cigars. You ignore the growls coming from the larger male, taking a cigar out calmly to slip it past your lips before lighting it to a bright cherry red at the opposite end. You don’t move until a single inhale of smoke fills your lungs, then is slowly exhaled through your nose. You picture yourself looking relatable to that of a bull that has dirt stuffed up its nostrils when you empty your lungs of the gritty tasting smoke. You didn’t think the night would come to an end this quickly, or in this particular way since the night always ended with a pool of blood and container of bleach. Maybe it was for the best that it ended this way though, clean, short, and admittedly entertaining.

“Ay, Dirky.” You grab his attention at the nickname, him blinking at you almost…what was that emotion that just flashed across his face? Embarrassment? No, no way. That must be the blinking of the lights overhead playing tricks on your mind that was currently swimming in an alcoholic bliss.

With a single nod of your head, he gets the message, and without a bat of an eye, you two are gone and flash stepping to the exit. The only thing that signified you had even moved was the trail of smoke from your lips leading a ghost trail in front of the now enraged guard of the club. Of course, once your sibling let the guy behind you go, he irrationally lunged out to try and grasp you, but you were faster, so it wasn’t a surprise when he ended up grappling a handful of air between his paws. You don’t even look to see if your men were aware of what was going on, they probably wouldn’t do anything if they knew anyway. But, you do stop, only a yard away from the exit to glance over your shoulder at the guard and shine a shit-eating grin at him. Expectantly, he fumes and curses you loudly before trying to push his way through a crowd of drunkards to get to you, but you wouldn’t let that happen.

Oh no, once he gets within hearing distance, you chuckle, letting your voice echo throughout the back of the club as both of your hands go up in the air, flipping off the bouncer, the party-goers, bartender, everyone (maybe even towards your crew a bit since you were hammered off your ass and couldn’t think rationally at the moment), with two middle fingers showing themselves off. The bouncer’s face is so priceless, you almost stick around to ruffle his nonexistent feathers even more, but instead of waiting for him to catch up, you slip through the exit door. With Dirk at your side, grinning in amusement at your antics, the two of you hurry up and flash step to the shitty apartment complex called home. It’s not long before police sirens sound throughout the roads, the noise practically calling your name, but instead of fearing the noise, a part of you dares the sirens to come closer, to try and catch you. That thought makes you smirk, smoke still trailing behind like a silent angel of mischief. 

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’re one fucked up man.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, though this is just the first chapter, I'd like to see how it spins off before continueing.


End file.
